


Like Lovers Do

by melancholymango



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura Runs The Show, Alternate Universe - Circus, Angst, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Coran is the Ringmaster, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Friends With Benefits, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hunk is the Strongman, Keith Performs Knife Throwing, Knifeplay, Lance Performs Aerial Silks, Lotor is a Contortionist, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Pidge is a Techie, Rival Circuses, Sexual Tension, Shiro is a Lion Whisperer, Slow Burn, if u suffer through the angst u get to the smut goldmine, will u take the risk or nah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 05:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14585937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholymango/pseuds/melancholymango
Summary: You hear tales of people running away from their shitty lives to join the circus, but you never expect to find yourself in that situation, living one of those tales. Lance gives up his whole life on a whim, joining his best friends on the road as the newest member of the traveling circus: "The Castle of Lions". Despite his eagerness to leave his old life behind, Lance isn't sure he'll be able to adjust to his new one either.Especially not with that asshole Keith shutting him down at every possible chance. What's his problem anyway?





	Like Lovers Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Here's another fic for this year's Klance Reverse Bang! I would like to thank my wonderful artist who will be collaborating with me throughout the length of this project to bring us accompanying art pieces for each chapter. 
> 
> Here's a link to their tumblr post, show them some love: https://little-lucky-angel.tumblr.com/
> 
> Here's a link to the event if you wanna see more works or possibly join next year: https://klancereversebang.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks for reading, I'll see y'all down at the end notes to ramble some more *finger guns*

Lance was pretty sure he must have done something terrible in a past life to deserve his current one. He wasn’t sure what, but at times like this when his life felt like a tunnel without a light at the end, he tended to ponder it to kill time. It probably wasn’t normal to compare yourself to terrible people of the past and wonder which one you were most similar to, but Lance was living on energy drinks and dry pasta at this point. Normal wasn’t on the menu.

“Oh, I have a coupon for that!” The old woman on the other side of the counter commented, hauling her too-big purse up onto the counter and beginning the long process of digging through her belongings to find said coupon. Lance paused where he’d been scanning her groceries through, his gaze empty and unblinking as he watched her rummage.

It took her almost two minutes to find her wallet to begin with, it was impossible to know how long it’d take to find one coupon.

“Great.” Lance said, his voice short and clipped, unable to keep the irritation from showing in it. She glanced up at him, eyes narrowing into a glare. It was funny how kind old ladies could turn on a dime the second you weren’t entirely hospitable to them. Lance had had his fair share of experiences with them during his time working retail.

When she finally found the coupon and handed it over, Lance went to scan it in only to notice the expiry date was listed as eight months ago. He held it out to her, shaking his head. “Oh, sorry, this is expired.”

“Expired?” The old lady said, like she’d never heard the word in her life. Lance nodded, offering his signature apologetic customer service smile. She scowled back at him. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, it’s out of date, so I can’t really... use it.” Lance explained, making some strained hand gestures to try and help drive the point home. He risked a wary glance toward the growing line of customers behind the elderly woman, wondering why none of the other lines were open. Were any of his co-workers even here?

“Let me see that.” The woman snapped, snatching the coupon from Lance’s hand. She looked at it for a moment, turning it from side to side, before handing it back to him. “No, you’re reading the day and month wrong, switch them around.”

Lance studied her face, uncertain whether she was being serious or not. After confirming that she was, in fact, expecting him to lie to his place of employment for her sake, he gave a deep sigh. This was going to be one of _those_ nights.

“Madam, I can’t-”

“What’s your problem?!” She screeched, voice raising to the point that ten other customers whipped their heads in Lance’s direction to search for the source of the dispute. “This is your _job_ , the customer is always right.”

After somehow managing to talk his way out of the confrontation and get the lady to leave, Lance spent the remainder of his shift in a daze-like state. He moved much like a robot, between the company catchphrase greetings and scanning the items one by one, it all blurred together into one ongoing moment until finally, _finally_ a co-worker came to relieve him of his duties.

Lance practically ran to the staff room to get his things together, beyond ready to get home and get into his warm bed. But after getting changed and shoving his uniform into his backpack, Lance walked out of the employee bathroom and straight into his manager. Lance tumbled backward, looking up at Iverson in fear. There was just something about the man, Lance was convinced he had it out for him.

“Lance.” Iverson said, his tone bored. He paced over to the break table and sat down, digging out his phone. “You’re not leaving yet, are you?”

“Well, uh, my shift ended ten minutes ago so I just figured-”

“Have you seen the mess in the supply room? Clean that up before you go anywhere.” Iverson huffed out a laugh, like Lance was hilarious for even considering leaving before that task was done. Lance grit his teeth together, hands curling into fists behind his back.

“I haven’t even been in the supply room once today, why do I have to-”

“Don’t test me, Lance.” Iverson sighed, so distracted and indifferent that you could tell he was already convinced he’d won the fight. And he had. He won every single fight he started because Lance had no power over him. He either had to grin and bear it, or quit. Given his current financial situation, quitting meant moving back to Cuba and back into his mother’s house.

Which, honestly, Lance missed his family enough that it didn’t even sound like such a bad thing. It would still feel like admitting defeat though, ater how hard he’d worked to get US citizenship and save up for schooling there. He still wasn’t quite to the amount he needed to enroll, but he put a little bit away each month. He also wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to go to school for, but his two best friends had both gone into engineering and gotten lucrative jobs halfway across the country, so Lance secretly hoped he might be smart enough to join them there someday.

Then he’d have enough money to support himself _and_ his family back home. If he became a fancy engineer then he’d _almost_ be able to live up to all the big game he’d talked as a teenager about how he was moving to the states to become a rich and famous celebrity. Sure, engineering had never been his thing per se, but he had the drive and the motivation to learn everything about it anyway.

“Alright, I’ll get it done.” So with his head held high, Lance turned on his heel and stalked off to the supplies closet. He held tight to the idea that someday he’d be out of here. This stupid job, this stupid town, all of his stupid relationships that only ended up blowing up in his face.

Given how late he had to stay after his shift, it really shouldn’t have surprised Lance when he missed his bus ride home. In a way, it didn’t. He watched as the bus pulled away moments before he reached the stop and he didn’t feel devastated like he probably should have, he was just overwhelmed with a feeling of resignation. Why _wouldn’t_ that happen to him?

It was when the heavens opened up over his head and started to pour rain down over him that he felt a little part inside of himself snap into two. He looked up at the cloudy night sky and threw his hands up in utter exasperation.

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?!” Lance choked out, feeling his eyes burn with the urge to cry. He willed the tears away though, squeezing his eyes harshly shut and taking a deep breath. With his feelings securely stuffed back down to the pit of his stomach, he stomped over to the bus stop and settled on the bench. The next one would come along in twenty minutes or so, it was still slightly faster than walking the walk home that took about forty minutes by foot.

Besides, the small bus stop shelter kept him from getting more drenched than he already was.

Lance dug his phone out, determined to just wait it out. Tomorrow would be a better day. It couldn’t possibly be any worse than today. He had to hold onto that hope.

About five minutes into his wait, a weight settled on the opposite side of the bench. Lance glanced up from where he’d been resting his chin on his knees, peering over at the drunken older man staring right back at him. Lance curled his nose in disgust. The man bared a toothless sort-of grin.

“Hey, you look like you could use a shoulder to cry on.”

“You know what, nevermind, I’ll walk.” Lance decided aloud, getting to his feet and walking out into the downpour. He kept walking even as water filled his shoes and each step gave a sickening squelch beneath him. Even as his hair fell into his eyes. Even as his phone was no doubt getting soaked through the layers of clothing he was trying to protect it under.

When he finally reached his apartment building, Lance felt a serene feeling of calm tiredness. He walked into the elevator and slumped into the side of the wall, yawning tiredly. After reaching his floor, Lance dragged his feet all the way to his apartment door and slowly slid his key into the lock.

He walked in, immediately bombarded by the explicit noises coming from his roommate’s bedroom. He took a deep breath, dropping his keys into the bowl. “ _Hello_? Anybody home?”

“Ah, fuck!” Lance felt his throat get tight at the filthy moan, instinctively reaching for his keys again and getting ready to leave just as soon as he’d arrived. See, given his current financial situation, Lance couldn’t really afford to look for a new apartment or a new roommate after breaking up with his boyfriend of the past seven months. So they stayed living together.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, especially because Lance had been secretly hoping they might get back together eventually.

Now it seemed like Lance had a thing for inflicting torture onto himself, watching the man he still wasn’t entirely over bring home other men week after week.

Lance turned to leave, ready to head right back out into the storm if that’s how far he had to go to clear his head of the noises he was hearing. Just as he was about to slip out, the noises stopped. Lance turned his head, biting his lip as the door to his roommate’s room creaked open. “Lance?”

“Yep, it’s me.” Lance answered dumbly, staring at the door that was open such a slim crack that he couldn’t even catch a glimpse of whoever was on the other side. It was probably better that way, or else Lance would be comparing himself to the man of the week.

“What are you doing here? You’re early.”

“I was off an hour ago.” Lance muttered in correction, fidgeting with his keys. “I’m late.”

“Well, I told you I was going to have company over tonight, so…”

“You didn’t, actually.” Lance breathed out, his voice getting quieter and quieter the longer his ex stood there scrutinizing him. He pulled out his phone, sheepishly beginning to scroll through it.

“Please? Give us some privacy?” Lance lifted his head, staring dazedly to where his ex was making pleading puppy-dog eyes at him. It was a trick that’d made frequent appearances throughout their relationship and Lance had given in every single time, without fail. He hadn’t tried it many times since they’d broken up, but it seemed to effect Lance just the same as before.

“Yeah, of course.” Lance agreed, nodding his head and offering a thin smilee. He left the apartment without so much as grabbing himself a dry change of clothes or a bite to eat, just went straight back out into the hallway. He walked down it to the stairwell, where he found himself a comfortable corner and settled in for however long it took. He hoped that they would at least have the decency to text him once they’d finished.

He pulled out his phone and began to scroll through it, feeling more and more defeated the more time that passed. Once or twice he debated going back to check if they’d finished or not, but ultimately decided he was better off waiting.

Eventually, he ran out of data, and thus he ran out of things to pass the time with.

Then he had nothing to do but sit there staring into space, thinking about his life. That was never something you wanted to go into in depth, especially not when your life was in as bleak and uncaring of a place as his was. When thoughts turned into tears, Lance just curled up in the corner a little smaller and waited it out. His entire day had been so terrible, the impending breakdown was only a matter of time.

It was uncanny how well Hunk knew him, really. Often times they joked that they were twins separated at birth, or friend soulmates, or lovers from a previous life. The point was, the moment Lance’s crying turned into full-blown sobbing, was when the phone in his hands rang with an incoming call.

Lance pulled back and stared at the screen, wiping his sleeves frantically across his face. Hunk hadn’t called him in weeks, he wasn’t going to miss this for anything.

“Hello?” Lance greeted, doing his best to make his tone unreadable.

“Lance?” Hunk asked, concern already showing. Lance rolled his eyes, sniffling quietly. Of course Hunk would pick up on the fact something was wrong, that damned sixth sense of his. “Are you okay? You sound a little choked up.”

“Sorry, I’ve got a head cold right now.” Lance lied easily, grasping at every trick in the book to try and sound casually dismissive. He rushed to change the subject. “How are you, Hunk? Long time no speak, big guy. I’ve missed you.”

“I’m good. I’ve missed you too.” Hunk sighed fondly, in a way that told Lance he saw right through him just like he’d always been able to. He wasn’t going to press it though, he knew better than to try and force answers out of Lance when he didn’t want to talk.

Lance frowned, missing the days before Hunk had moved away, when they’d been roommates. He could come home to warm food and hugs, rather than whatever this shitshow was. They’d been so close, now Lance was lucky to hear from him once a month. Lance understood, he really did, Hunk had moved up in the world and as amazing as his job was, it was a demanding role to play. He didn’t have time to spare.

Hunk drew a short breath, the kind that told Lance he was trying to bite back a secret of a substantial size. Lance grinned, more than ready for a good gossip sesh to take his mind off of things. Hunk exhaled suddenly and rapidly, words flying past his lips. “That’s why I’m standing outside of your apartment right now! Come see me so I can stop missing you!”

“What?!” Lance laughed, jumping to his feet. He looked around in shock, like Hunk might somehow materialize right there in the stairwell. After getting his bearings about him, Lance ran down the stairs toward the exit, skipping steps and nearly breaking his ankle more than once. “You’re _kidding_.”

“Nope.” Hunk answered easily, giggling slightly.

“ _Hunk_.” Lance outright whined, disbelief distended in his voice. After the day he’d just been through, this was exactly what he needed. There was no way, it had to be some kind of joke. Sure, Hunk wasn’t the type to pull something like that, but this was just too much to believe.

“Pidge is here too.” Hunk added, a series of shouts sounding distantly in the background at being forgotten up until that point. Lance laughed breathlessly, launching from the bottom stair and shoving the doors open. He peered out through the rain into the parking lot, where two people were pacing around aimlessly under umbrellas. “It’s been fifteen months since we moved away, video calls and texts can only go so far.”

“Why didn’t you warn me ahead of time?!” Lance screeched, watching as their heads whipped in his direction on the other side of the parking lot. He ran out into the rain, uncaring that he was getting soaked all over again. Pidge and Hunk ran to meet him halfway, their ongoing call forgotten.

“Lance!” Pidge shouted, laughing wickedly, waving her umbrella recklessly above her head. Lance ran faster, throwing caution to the wind. If he slipped on the wet pavement and ended up smashing his face into it, it would be worth it just to see his friends a second or two sooner.

Once Hunk was within arm’s reach, Lance didn’t even slow down, only pounced on him at full speed and wound his limbs around him. He buried his face into the collar of Hunk’s sweater, laughing wetly into his neck. Hunk wrapped his free arm around Lance to keep him in place, the other one clumsily keeping the umbrella over their heads.

“Lance, don’t cry.” Hunk shushed him gently, managing to rub his hand over Lance’s back soothingly, given the other boy was koala-ed to him so tightly. Lance had no intentions of ever letting go again in his life.

“I missed you so much.” Lance whispered urgently, pulling back to slap his hands onto either side of Hunk’s face and placed sloppy kisses on each of his cheeks. Hunk groaned, giggling as he attempted to lean out of Lance’s clingy reach. Lance laughed, head falling to Hunk’s shoulder. “It’s been so _lonely_ without you around.”

“Hey! Forgetting about someone?” Pidge called from behind them, hands placed on her hips. Lance’s head jerked upright and before Pidge even had a chance to register her mistake, Lance had launched off of Hunk and onto her much smaller frame. She shrieked, falling to the wet ground with an armful of Lance on top of her. “Oof!”

She lifted her head slowly, in the same instance that Lance did, their eyes slowly meeting through the thick fluff of Pidge’s hair that’d fallen into her face. Lance’s lips split into a grin, that only seemed to grow the longer Pidge glared at him. Finally, her resolve broke away and she couldn’t help but smile back at him in exasperation.

“Please tell me you guys are here for a few days at least.” Lance prompted, getting to his feet and holding out a hand for Pidge to follow.

“We’re here for a few days at least.” Hunk answered, a tilt to his lips that said that would be the most specific answer Lance was getting for a while yet. He groaned, on the verge of voicing his dislike for surprises for the hundredth time, but Pidge spoke up before Lance could get a single word of complaint out.

“You wanna go get something to eat?”

\--

They ended up in the same diner they’d frequented so many times before, settled at the table they used to call their own. In reality, Lance hadn’t gone back to it once since they’d moved away, it just didn’t feel right to revisit without them. He was happy to be there now, though.

“So, where are you two staying?” Lance asked, taking a hearty bite of his burger. Hunk and Pidge exchanged a look, before shrugging their shoulders in unison.

“It’s complicated.”

“Huh?” Lance hummed out, nearly choking on his bite of food in the proces. He hammered a fist against his chest, earning a soothing pat on the back from Hunk. He finished chewing and swallowed before attempting to speak again. “If you need a couch to crash on or something, you know mine is always open. No questions asked.”

Pidge smiled softly, a look of guilt on her face as she slowly turned to Hunk. Lance bit the inside of his cheek, wondering what they were keeping from him. There was definitely a secret in the mix for why they were visiting him right now. It wasn’t just the happy unplanned surprise they were making it out to be. Was something wrong?

“There’s something we want to tell you.” Hunk said suddenly, folding his hands together and turning back to Lance. Lance quirked an eyebrow at him. “You have to promise not to get mad.”

“I can’t promise that before I know what you’re gonna say.” Lance responded easily, his voice light like it was just some friendly banter. In reality, he was worrying a little bit. His friends were pretty direct people, it was unlike them to be so vague about something. “So? What’s going on?”

“We quit our jobs.” Hunk blurted, just as Pidge was turning to him to exchange another one of those imploring looks to decide how much they should share. Judging by the betrayed look on Pidge’s face right in that moment, Hunk must have just shared it all. Lance blinked a few times, having difficulty processing the information.

“Oh my god?” He said finally, a hint of a question behind the words as he desperately tried to gauge how he was meant to react. Hunk and Pidge’s expressions were so difficult to read, aside from the obvious nervousness as they awaited Lance’s reaction. He floundered, trying to remember what to say in a situation like this. “Are you okay? Is there something wrong? Do you need a place to stay?”

“We weren’t fired, we quit.” Pidge offered in reminder, taking a long sip of her drink. “We had something better lined up.”

“Oh?”

“Yep.” Hunk agreed, nodding his head. Lance glanced between them curiously, trying to figure out what was going on. He sighed finally, leaning forward and propping his chin up in his palm.

“Where could you possibly get a job that’s better than where you already were? That place was like a goldmine. You had it made. It was your dream job.”

“It just wasn’t all we thought it would be.” Pidge mumbled, fingernails drumming against the table to the beat of the song on the radio. She reached behind herself then, pulling a piece of folded paper out of her back pocket. She slid it over to Lance. “Look.”

Lance accepted the piece of paper and carefully unfolded it, risking occasional glances up at his friends to watch their reactions. They were avidly watching him, sitting on the edge of their seats, waiting to see his reaction. Lance sighed, finally unfolding the last fold in the paper, greeted by the colorful artwork of a flyer.

“The Castle of Lions.” Lance read aloud, nodding his head. He shrugged his shoulders and looked back up at his friends, confused. “What does this have to do with-”

“That’s where we work now.” Hunk interrupted, hands folded together on the table. Lance blinked. He looked back down at the flyer in his hands, eyebrows rising toward his hairline.

“You’re kidding. Is this a prank?” Lance sighed out, looking between the both of them with an unimpressed pout. Pidge reached over and snatched the flyer from his grip, pointing toward a list in fine print at the bottom where the names of all the acts were listed.

“Not a prank.”

“Do you guys honestly expect me to believe you’re clowns or something? This isn’t-”

“No.” Pidge interrupted, her tone growing short. “Hunk is the strongman, he does weight lifting.”

“And Pidge works with her brother as a tech support and stage hand for each show.” Hunk added, showing considerably more patience as he waited for Lance to accept what they were telling him.

He might have if it were literally anyone else telling him they ran away to join the circus, but Pidge and Hunk were his best friends. Months apart or not, he liked to think that he knew them pretty well, and this wasn’t the type of thing he could picture them doing. They’d worked their entire lives for that engineering job at their favorite company.

Pidge must have misread the lost look on Lance’s face, as she quickly offered up a better description of what her supposed “ _job_ ” entailed. Lance watched her throughout the explanation, a sinking feeling of dread settling in his stomach as he watched her talk.

He knew his best friends, just apparently not in every single way. He knew from the way she lit up as she spoke, the way her hands flew through the air in wild gestures, the way her glasses kept sliding down the bridge of her nose because she was too excited to sit still… Pidge was genuinely invested in this.

They were telling the truth.

“We handle all of the music and special effects, we’re a pretty big deal. I mean, not to brag or anything, but shows wouldn’t be able to run smoothly at all without my expert-”

“You work at a circus.” Lance interrupted, unable to hold himself back now that he’d realized they were somehow telling the truth. He still didn’t entirely understand, none of it made sense to him or his friends personalities, but here they were. “You’re _carnies_?”

The small-town diner they found themselves in suddenly went quiet, people sitting at nearby tables sneaking glances in their direction. Lance hadn’t realized it when he jumped to his feet and raised his voice to something akin to a shout, but apparently the rest of the world had. He took a shaky breath, exhaling between his teeth.

“Lance.” Hunk whispered, reaching across the table to squeeze Lance’s hand where it lay, curled into a tight fist. Lance watched, staring at where his best friend’s hand had engulfed his own. “Don’t be mad.”

“Why would I be _mad_?” Lance whispered back, finally sliding back into his seat. He leaned over the table, burying his face in his hands.

He wasn’t mad, not really. It wasn’t anger he felt burning through his veins, it wasn’t like they’d given him any reason to be so much as annoyed. No, it was a quieter feeling, a subtle feeling of hurt and betrayal that he couldn’t quite place at first. Was it that they hadn’t checked in with him first?

Lance huffed. “If anything I’m concerned. Why would you make such a drastic, impulsive decision without talking to anyone first?”

“It’s not like it was a recent decision.” Pidge explained, mixing the ice in her drink around with the colorful straw. “We’ve been working at The Castle for months, Lance. We just weren’t sure how to tell you. Then the circus came to our hometown here and we figured… it was time.”

Months.

They’d been working there for _months_.

Meanwhile Lance had been working at a dead-end job, all alone in the world, desperate to catch up to them. They were always two steps ahead of him, but he’d never resented them for it, it’d only pushed him to keep fighting and to try harder. He’d adopted their dreams just to be like them and be with them, and now they were trying to tell him they’d thrown it all away? All of it? Like it didn’t even matter?

Lance felt something inside of himself snap.

“You went to university! You spent thousands on your education and you’re going to give it all up for a position that requires no assets whatsoever?! Do you have any idea how _foolish_ -”

“We’re happier this way, Lance.” Pidge cut him off, her voice harsh. Lance froze, his mouth still hanging agape mid-word. Pidge stood up, shuffling out of their shared booth. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, eyes cold and distant. “It isn’t _foolish_.”

So as Pidge stomped away in the direction of the washrooms, Lance was left sitting there pondering what she’d said. It really should have been that simple. Instead of concern for their well-being, financial security, future… he should have asked if they were happy. He knew what it was like to be trapped in a job that felt like it was sucking the life straight out of you, he’d never wish that on his friends.

He’d just idolized them so much, he’d assumed their job was the top of the ladder. The final destination.

But any job can be wrong for you, even if it takes thousands of dollars and years of hard work to get there.

“Look, we understand that it’ll take you a while to get used to. We shouldn’t have kept it from you as long as we did, but we didn’t want to drop the information on you over the phone.” Hunk explained gently, leaning back in his seat. He took a deep breath, sliding the flyer closer to Lance. “At least come to one of our shows before you pass judgment. We missed you, buddy.”

“Okay.” Lance blurted, without putting any more thought into it. Really, what more would he need to know? It made his friends happy to be here. It might not have been the future he envisioned for them, or even the future they envisioned for themselves, but that didn’t matter. Plans change, people change, but he didn’t want their friendship to.

“Yeah?” Hunk laughed, disbelief present in his voice at just how quickly Lance had changed his perspective.

“I’ve never been to something like this before.” Lance explained, waving the flyer around. He looked shyly down at the paper in his hands, then glanced up at Hunk through his lashes. “And if it makes you happy…”

“It does.” Hunk insisted immediately, a wide grinning smile on his face. “It really does.”

\--

He ended up parting ways with Hunk and Pidge, who assured him they had a better place to stay than on his couch. They parted on the promise that Lance would attend their show the next evening. They gave him a time and a place, both beyond eager to be sharing this new part of their lives with him. Lance had to admit, even he was getting a little bit excited about trying out something so new.

Of course, he should have learnt by now not to get his hopes up. It was like Iverson knew what days Lance was standing on his feet with just too much confidence, too much energy in his step. On days like that Iverson showed no mercy, positively tearing into him without remorse. He worked Lance like a dog, forcing him to work overtime despite Lance’s frequent reminders that he had somewhere to be that night.

When he finally managed to leave work, it was with a resigned sense of acceptance that he was going to be late. Not even just a few minutes, either. The performances were probably already halfway finished, especially considering Hunk had been one of the first few to go on stage according to the timetable.

Lance stumbled in toward the end of the show, still working his damned work uniform. Of all the days he could have been kept after his shift today had to have been the worst. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain it to Hunk and Pidge, who would have been waiting on him to arrive. They told him they’d saved him a special seat, but hadn’t told him where to go exactly.

So he wandered, down through the rows of people in the audience, closer and closer to the stage. He reached the final step on the staircase, stepping into the front row, and finally risked a glance up at the stage where an act was ongoing. He instantly froze in his tracks, eyes widening.

Up on the stage stood one of the most beautiful men he’d ever laid eyes on, inky black hair tied back into a messy ponytail, dark eyes staring brightly out over the crowd. He was circling the stage, smiling and waving at any particularly excited crowd goers, mostly children. The man held knives in his hands, in the holster tied to his thigh, even one between his teeth a moment later. Oh, how the women in the crowd screamed at that.

Lance felt a little bit lightheaded, like maybe he might want to join them.

He hadn’t come prepared for something like this, the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind in his rush to get there. It was a little bit ironic really, considering any other time he went anywhere he was constantly thinking about what he’d do if he ran into someone attractive, if he happened upon his soulmate entirely by chance during the outing. His mama had told him once that he thought with his heart rather than his brain, that he was in love with the idea of love.

He’d protested it at the time, but right about now it was hard to deny with the way his heart and head were running wild with fantasies of the man on stage. He was getting carried away.

Sue him, he’d been expecting a stereotypical dirty person who had been on the road without a shower for months. And maybe it was ignorant and rude, especially considering his two best friends worked here and clearly took better care of themselves than that, but he’d come into this tent with a certain set of expectations. Expectations that were currently being blown out of the water.

Lance ignored the insistent thud of his heart in his chest, turning to shimmy down the aisle toward the few seats that remained empty. He had only just settled into his seat when the audience filled with gasps, his attention instantly drawn to the source of their shock.

He whipped his head up, watching as a second knife sailed through the air, the first presumably the cause of the uproar. Lance gaped dumbly as the knife sailed toward the woman on the spinning wheel, her legs and arms spread eagle. It landed right next to her wrist. Lance felt a shiver wrack his frame. Even the woman tied to the wheel was gorgeous, light blonde hair and all sharp edges, just like the knives being hurled toward her one after the other.

Still… Lance found his gaze torn away from her and back to the man throwing the knives. It was almost like a dance, the way his feet moved, the way his body twisted each time he’d draw an arm back above his head in preparation for another throw. His eyes would squint with concentration, eyebrows pinching together, lips pouting out in a way that probably should have seemed more intimidating than it did adorable all things considered. Maybe Lance had a thing for guys handling deadly weaponry and looking hot and mysterious while doing it, who knew.

After going through every knife in his holster, one after the other, the man turned back to the crowd and gave a sweeping boy. The audience went wild, even Lance going so far as to stand up and clap. If the amount of praise did anything for the knife thrower on stage, he didn’t let it show in his expression whatsoever. He remained cool and collected, only a hint of a grin quirking at the corners of his lips.

Lance wondered briefly if he would have been able to notice the small details of the performer’s face if he’d been sitting any further back. He made a mental note to thank his friends for the great seating and placed it into his bank of mental notes, right next to the one reminding him to ask for all of the possible information they had on Hot N’ Stabby over there.

As the next act took the stage, Lance was reminded of an age-old piece of advice he’d been given as a young child. There was such a thing as spoiling your meal by eating something much more delicious beforehand, which is why he’d always been told to save the best for last. How did this apply to his current situation? He could hardly bring himself to pay attention to any of the acts that followed that stupidly attractive knife guy. It wasn’t even fair.

He wanted to pay attention to the little bit of the show he’d made it in time to see more than anything, yet his attention kept drifting back to the backstage curtain where the performers disappeared to after they’d finished on stage. He caught himself hoping more than once that maybe the knife guy would be one of the performers who came on multiple times throughout the night, but as time passed it was clear that wasn’t the case.

He felt almost cheated. He couldn’t even enjoy the buff hunk that came out onto the stage with five lions in tow, introducing himself as Shiro the lion whisperer. Any other time that would have garnered Lance’s full undivided attention, but as it was he had to force himself to sit through it and watch the prowling lions as they performed tricks for the audience. Lance squirmed in his seat, impatient to go find Hunk and Pidge.

Granted, he had been pretty late getting to the party, so he didn’t have to wait all that long before it started to draw to a close. The ringmaster Coran pranced around the stage announcing the end of the show, gesturing dramatically for the clowns around him to bow to the audience. Lance felt a bit dazed, like he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d just witnessed, but he was certain that he’d liked it. At least he could tell that to Hunk and Pidge in total honesty.

The people around him began to filter out of the main tent after that, toward the same entrance they’d all came in from originally. Lance lingered in his seat until the majority had left and only then did he start toward the red velvet rope beside the stage. Most performers on the stage just got off of it up there, but he’d noticed a few food vendors and similar employees heading behind this rope. It must have been an alternative route.

Lance slipped through the doorway, looping the rope back into place behind himself. He turned then, a wide smile stretching across his face at the sheer amount of people bustling around in this back room. It was so lively, so filled with chatter, so bustling with energy. It was unlike anything Lance had ever found himself caught up in and he immediately wanted to throw himself in headfirst.

Lance stepped further into the room, laughing breathlessly as two tall women on stilts shuffled past him. He turned to watch them leave, eyes trailing down the slope of their backs, the curves of their muscular legs, right down to where their feet rested on the high stilts. He whistled lowly, awed.

He turned to the crowd then and made up his mind, charging straight in to the thick of it. He was shoved around for a few short moments, a few people even cursing at him for holding up traffic, but then he was spat out on the other side. It was a small sitting area, worn couches and a small vanity station for applying makeup. As it was, the blonde girl from the knife wheel sat on the stool in front of it, wiping the pounds of product off her face.

Lance trailed closer to the woman, lingering a few steps behind her. He had no doubt in his mind that she could see his reflection in the mirror, but she didn’t address him right away. Instead she continued to clean her face, humming a soft song under her breath.

“Excuse me?” Lance tried, settling on the nearest couch. She paused, blinking into the mirror before turning to look at him, eyebrow quirked expectantly. “I’m looking for my friends, any chance you might be able to help me get to them?”

“Depends.” She answered vaguely, eyes trailing over Lance’s slouched frame. He sat up taller, feeling sheepish under her gaze. Eventually her eyes met his, a spark of playfulness present in the color of her irises. Her lips sloped upward into a lopsided smile. “Do your friends have names?”

“They sure do.” Lance laughed, feeling more confident now that the pretty girl was smiling at him. He held out his hand and she took it, slim fingers sliding effortlessly into his palm. “I’m Lance.”

“Nyma.” She responded cooly, lifting his hand suddenly and pressing a fluttering kiss to his knuckles. He gulped, cheeks burning hot and no doubt tinted a blaring red. Lance attempted to clear his throat and quickly dissolved into a fit of coughing. She giggled, withdrawing her hand and turning back to her work.

“My friends are Hunk and Pidge.” Lance managed once he’d calmed himself down.

“Ah, the strongman and the nerd. The biggest and smallest members of our family, respectively.” Nyma answered, seemingly talking to herself. She picked up a perfume bottle and squirted a few puffs onto her chest, eyelashes fluttering. She stood, gesturing through the air for him to follow. “I’ll lead the way.”

“Thank-you.” Lance breathed, relief in his tone. He jumped up, following after her as she wove through the crowd, everyone parting ways to allow her through. She must have been someone important.

Lance jogged to catch up to her side, growing tired of staring at the back of her head and her swaying hips as she walked. “Really, this means a lot to me. I never would have found them on my own.”

“Mm.” Nyma hummed, grabbing the curtain they’d reached and pushing it back. Lance gaped as the sunlight filtered in through the opening in the tent, revealing a second parking lot behind it. In this small clearing a few dozen trailers and mobile homes were parked, all decorated uniquely to suit their owners tastes. Lance laughed.

“Woah, you guys live in these?”

“Yes.” Nyma answered simply, leading the way out into the clearing. Lance followed suit. There were people running around out in the open too, but not nearly as many. Lance watched as they ran, some looking like normal citizens, others dressed in full costume still. He laughed, a dumb smile on his face as he watched a herd of clowns rush into the tent they’d just come from. “So, what’s your thing?”

“Hm?” Lance questioned, spinning back around to face Nyma. He’d been walking backward, having twisted himself into a knot in his efforts to keep watching strangers.

“People don’t find themselves behind the velvet rope unless they’re interested in joining us. I assume you want to become a member of the circus?” Nyma elaborated, turning to glance over at him.

“Oh no, not me.” Lance laughed, shaking his head. “I’m just visiting, like I said.”

“ _Really_ ?” The disbelief was obvious in her tone, like that was the last possible thing she’d expected him to answer with. Lance frowned slightly, confused as she turned to him with a skeptical look. She ran her eyes over him, sizing him up all over again. It was less like being checked out and more like being considered as a piece of prey. “What a shame. The girls would _love_ you.”

Lance’s eyes widened, tongue darting out to wet his lips. _Now_ they were talking.

“You think?” Lance chuckled modestly, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair in a way he hoped seemed effortlessly attractive. Nyma bit her lip, before ultimately rolling her eyes at his display.

“Charming, handsome, and _hopelessly_ naive.” She concluded, sighing quietly. “They’d eat you right up.”

Lance puffed his chest out a little bit as he received more compliments, deciding to ignore the fact that she’d called him naive. He could brush over that bit, instead dwelling on the mental image of girls eating him right up. He’d seen some of the other female performers during the show and behind the stage, he knew there were at least a few he’d like to get more familiar with.

Nyma was right here though, and so far she’d had mostly nice things to say about him. He decided to shoot his shot with her first.

“What about you? Interested in taking the first bite?” Lance whispered, shifting closer to her and easily snaking an arm around her waist. She stopped walking, pausing in the middle of the field to look down at where his arm had wrapped around her middle. She didn’t look outright appalled, but then again that wasn’t an emotion Lance wanted to be on the receiving end of from someone like her.

Standing this close to her, he could see the defined muscles bulging beneath her flowy mostly-sheer top.

“You’re not my type, loverboy.” Nyma concluded finally, shrugging him off.

“What a shame.” Lance sighed, but he was quick to bounce back when he remembered all the other beautiful people he’d seen around the place. There had to be at least one that’d entertain his flirting more than that.

He decided to change the subject, seeing as they were still walking past trailers and didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon. “I saw you on stage.”

“My trapeze act is hard to miss, I’d be more surprised if you _didn’t_ see me.”

“Nah, I didn’t come in until late.” Lance explained, folding his hands behind his head as he walked. He was in his element, being led around by a beautiful woman. “You were on the wheel, getting knives biffed at you.”

“Ah, yes.” Nyma laughed, her eyes alight with a fondness that just hadn’t been there until now. Lance stood up a little straighter, watching her closely. “That’s not my act, but I do tend to steal the show from Keith more often than not.”

“Keith, huh? That’s the knife guy?” Lance pried, trying not to let the urgency show in his voice. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding when she nodded her head in confirmation. There was one other pressing question in his mind though, especially after seeing the way she’d reacted at the mention of the guy. “Are you guys together?”

“I’m single.” Nyma answered plainly, her smile falling away and shifting back into the general scowl she’d been wearing throughout the rest of their interaction. “Still not interested in you, though.”

“I respect that, I won’t keep pestering you.” Lance explained easily, knowing better than to pressure a woman for a different answer after receiving a rejection. It might have been something he’d try in his desperation as a teenager, but he was above begging now. Besides, it never worked, and it was just uncomfortable all-around.

Besides-besides, now the topic had finally gone where he’d been wanting it to all along in the very back of his mind. “Keith is single too?”

“Oh.” Nyma paused, nearly tripping over her own feet. It was the first time since approaching her that Lance had seen her slip up, normally seeming so effortlessly composed. She took a deep breath, turning to Lance with a flush and a different look in her eyes. “You’re interested in _him_? Keith?”

“Now, I didn’t say that.” Lance insisted stubbornly, mostly because he didn’t know how to interpret the tone she was using. He wasn’t sure if she sounded like she was judging him or what, but he didn’t want to admit to liking someone before he knew anything about them anyway. Maybe Keith was the signature gross guy of the circus, how was he supposed to know?

Lance cleared his throat, tearing his gaze away from his feet. “I just think he’s cool, that’s all. I wanna know more about him.”

Nyma nodded slowly, processing his take on things. She continued walking then, looking much more contemplative than she had before. Finally, she came to a stop outside of a trailer, and turned back to Lance. Before he could open his mouth asking if this was one of his friend’s trailers, Nyma interrupted his train of thoughts.

“He doesn’t date.” Nyma said shortly, her answer blunt. Lance blinked, taking a moment to realize they were still on the topic of Keith. Before the disappointment could set in too heavy, Nyma pointed across the way. “That’s Hunk’s trailer over there.”

Lance followed her gaze, eyebrows furrowing together at the brightly colored mobile home in his sights right then. He glanced back at Nyma, uncertain.

“The red one?”

“Yep.” Nyma answered, turning to the trailer she’d stopped at. She opened the door and stepped up into it, looking back down at Lance. “Oh, and Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t bother me again.” Nyma snapped, her gaze suddenly turning harsh and cold. She turned then, slamming the door shut behind herself and drawing the blinds. Lance blinked dumbly up at the closed door, wondering what he’d said.

“Geesh, what’s her problem?” He muttered to himself, sulking over to the red trailer she’d pointed out to him. It wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting to find either of his friends in, but he also hadn’t expected them to run off and join the circus, so hey.

He tried the door, inviting himself in when he found it to be unlocked. He pushed the door open and stepped up into the home. “Hey, the show was gr-”

Lance cut himself off, immediately realizing this was _not_ Hunk’s home. The walls were lined with newspaper cut-outs of articles about the circus and various other things, knives stretched out across the small kitchen table, a pair of boots discarded by the door. More than any of that though, the biggest dead giveaway was the _person_ standing with their back turned to Lance.

Lance stopped talking, eyes following the slope of the man’s back, the curve of his ass. His arms were stretched over his head, fingers wound in his hair and slowly undoing the ponytail it’d been drawn up into. Lance gulped, watching as _inky black hair_ fell messily around the man’s shoulders.

Either this was fate intervening and somehow bringing Keith into Hunk’s quarters for a chance encounter with Lance, or Nyma had given him the wrong info to mess with him. As much as Lance didn’t want to admit it, the latter sounded more plausible. He wanted to slap himself for being so stupid. So _naive_.

As it was, he stayed glued to the spot. Lance stayed hopelessly still as Keith paced over to the radio on the other side of the room and turned it on, reaching up to fluff up the hair he’d just released from the ponytail. Lance bit his lip to hold back an audible swoon at _that_. After that Keith began to sway slightly, just barely enough to be considered dancing.

As he danced, he slowly turned toward Lance, his eyes lidded and tired. Lance watched silently as Keith yawned, nose scrunching up adorably with the movement. He looked so much… _cuter_ , than he had on stage. He seemed so much smaller here, without the knives in his hands and the harsh toothy grins plastered on his face.

Keith’s hands moved to the bow tie around his neck, fingers working deftly to rip it free from the collar of his shirt. He didn’t get very far before his eyes widened comically, darting to meet Lance’s blank stare with one of confusion and fear.

“Wh-”

“Wow, you are… _not_ Hunk.” Lance laughed, coughing to cover up the obvious desire that’d somehow invaded his voice. Keith stared back at him like a deer caught in headlights, interrupted in his most vulnerable moments, in his private quarters… by a stranger.

Lance stumbled backward a bit, hand landing on the small kitchenette counter to steady himself. He flashed his most charming smile, hoping to try and smooth over the fact he’d been standing there dazedly as this man prepared to _undress_ unknowingly in front of him.

At the time, the thought hadn’t even occurred to Lance that after the bowtie _the rest_ of Keith’s clothes were probably planned to follow, he’d been too busy admiring the view he had. Now that the thought was on Lance’s mind though, he couldn’t shake it. He felt his face heating up.

“Who the hell are you?!” Keith shouted suddenly, hands curling into fists. He reached out to the table then, picking up one of his knives and pointing it toward Lance ominously. “Get out!”

“Woah, woah, let’s take it easy.” Lance spluttered helplessly, hands darting up in front of his chest to try and protect himself. The knives were hot, Lance could admit that much, but not in the sense that he wanted to end up with his insides carved out like a holiday turkey. “I’m just looking for a friend of mine.”

“Are you deaf?” Keith grunted, and before Lance even had time to react, a knife was soaring through the air. Lance yelped like a dog, stumbling backward and cowering against the wall. He heard the dull thud when the knife connected with the wall beside his head, sticking into a bullseye that he hadn’t even noticed was beside him. “Get. Out.”

Gone was the sleepy boy with a scrunched up nose and tired eyes, replaced with a furious man with trigger happy hands and a fiery glare.

“Oh, geez.” Lance whimpered, cursing under his breath in Spanish, eyes darting to the glint of metal beside him. “You know what? That’s totally fine, I’ll just leave and literally never come back. So sorry for bothering you, please don’t stab me, I really didn’t mean to-”

“Stop talking.” Keith snapped, crossing the small trailer room in three long strides. Lance winced, pressing his back against the wall and making himself as non-threatening as possible.

“Please don’t kill me.”

“If you’re a new recruit or something, then you’re looking for Allura. Her trailer is the purple one, in the middle of the lot.” Keith explained shortly, twirling the knife between his fingers, keeping it held between their bodies. If Lance inhaled just a little bit too deeply, he could feel the weight of the metal press against his chest through his thin t-shirt. “This trailer? Is mine. Come near it again? And my knife won’t miss.”

Lance nodded dumbly, eyes darting down to the knife. It really started out as a simple sick curiosity toward the murder weapon currently pressed to him, but it was only a matter of seconds before Lance’s attention strayed. His eyes moved to the half-undone bowtie around Keith’s neck, to the slope of his chest, to the few inches left between their hips with the way Keith was attempting to tower over him.

More or less, Lance was pinned against a wall by a hot guy. It’d been a while since something like that had happened to him. So, him being Lance, he couldn’t help but smirk as his eyes darted back up to Keith’s at the close proximity.

“Yes, Sir.” Lance whispered, reaching up to give a mock salute. Keith glowered at him, knife pressing harder into the flesh of his chest. Lance stayed obediently still, his breath hitching at the thought that he might actually be cut by the blade. He was just starting to ponder whether he might actually like that or not when Keith’s foot drove forward into his shin _hard_.

He didn’t have to debate at all to realize he _didn’t_ like that.

“Go!” Keith snapped, backing away and taking his damned knife with him. Lance doubled over, cursing as he cradled his kneecap.

“Yep! Going!” He wheezed, stumbling toward the door. He pushed himself out of it, grateful when Keith didn’t just pick him up and yeet him straight out of there. The door was slammed shut behind him the moment his feet hit the ground, but Lance was almost thankful for that. It meant he could curl up in pain on the ground and not be judged by those harsh indigo eyes.

He cradled his leg until the pain subsided, at which point he sheepishly got to his feet and stalked off, a scowl imprinted on his face even as the crowds of clowns bustled past him.

Maybe the circus wasn’t quite as wondrous and fun as he thought, maybe it was filled with _assholes_ all around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my newest infrequently updated chaptered fic! We're hoping to post this one approximately once a month, but keep in mind we're working around two different schedules as it is a collab work so be patient with us. 
> 
> If you have requests or suggestions for things you wanna see feel free to shoot them into my tumblr ask box as I haven't planned out this fic yet in its entirety, I just know it's gonna be filled with enemies to lover/friends with benefits sexually-tense angst. The best kind of angst.
> 
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> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave lotsa comments as I love to see what everyone is thinking, especially at the start of a new fic!


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